


Episode 42: Jiiya

by PitoyaPTx



Series: Clan Meso'a [42]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Mandalorian, Mandalorian Clan, Mandalorian Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21685435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PitoyaPTx/pseuds/PitoyaPTx
Summary: "Is it over yet?" ~CaraJiiya and his many throats finally makes an appearance as the initiates' opponent in the final trial.
Series: Clan Meso'a [42]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1261364
Kudos: 1





	Episode 42: Jiiya

**Author's Note:**

> This episode isn't necessarily graphic, but there is some blood so I've tagged it as such. You've been warned!

The rowdy stadium grew silent when their Choxultzalor hopped onto the wall and cast her spear into the arena. Her bun a long ponytail and her jade comb ever unyielding atop her head, Ba’atuk leapt over the side of the stadium onto the sands, grabbed her spear, and hoisted it up in the air.   
“Be Haria Enad!” she shouted. (Children of Ruin!)  
“Be Haria Enad!” they echoed. (Children of Ruin!)  
“Baal ta’soah!” (Hear my words!)  
“Nas baal!” (We hear you!)   
“Naal ta’kexultz!” (Know my strength!)  
“Nas naal!” (We know you!)   
“Naal ta’choxultz!” (Know my spirit!)   
“Nas naal!” (We know you!)   
“Fa’ssra’ta?” (Do you trust me?)   
“Nas fa’ssra!” (We trust you!)   
“Pol’ta nas’soah!” (Give me your words!)   
“Be Haria Enad!” (Children of Ruin!)   
Cheering erupted again as she jogged to the east end of the stadium. The central door on that side was sliding open, revealing a roadway out towards the direction of the jungle. The doors on either side opened up on weapons racks, the right door holding small knives, rocks, rope of varying kinds, and electro staffs. The left door opened up on an assortment of metal or wooden shields and tall, paddle-like clubs with multicolor, rounded off pieces of stones along the edges. Two warriors stood on either side of the central tunnel just inside the doors. When the light hit them, they turned to face Ba’atuk and raised their chins to her. She did the same and beckoned them forward into a quick huddle before the warriors began to inspect the shields and weapons. After fifteen minutes of cheering, chatting, and a brief talk between Ba’atuk and Koucitesh (who was sitting on the lowest level with Barsurl, Meiri, and her husband), the Choxultz’alor hailed the transport shuttle coming into view inside the tunnel. All attention turned to the young warriors exiting the shuttle, including the two injured warriors being helped over to Ba’atuk by the medics. She looked them over, spoke to them, then sent them back to the shuttle. Once inside, she turned to the crowd and gave a curt nod. Many clapped and others cheered while their families looked on with relief.   
The other children took to the weapons racks, picking out a rope, staff, knife, shield, and one-handed paddle-club each. As they did so, Ba’atuk spoke with the medics and a few other older warriors who’d emerged from the shuttle. They spoke until the children finished collecting their tools and had them all kneel at the entrance of the tunnel. Ba’atuk gave one last instruction to one of the warriors before jogging to the center of the stadium and turning off the holo-projector.   
“Be Haria Enad, naal’nas!” she pointed to the children, all kneeling with their chins raised and hands clutching their staffs, “Ibi’tuur tir’kex’ika’nas. Naal’nas. Nas ven’brali’nas ra ven’ash’amu’nas-” (Children of Ruin, you know them! Today they are no longer children. Know them! They will prevail or they will perish-)   
“Nas ven’coat!” came shouts from the initiates’ families. ([in Soah-ra] They will prevail!)  
Ba’atuk raised a hand to them and they fell silent, “Baal’ta, vode! Nas attinii kii’n. Nas ven’attinii al’kii’n a Jiiya!” (Listen, friends. They endured pain. They will endure more pain by Jiiya).   
The crowd began to hiss and growl their displeasure. Ba’atuk raised her hand again. Beyond her, the central western door began to slowly slide open. A few of the children grasped their weapons tighter. The Trandoshan, however, was leaning forward slightly, ready to pounce. 

Jecho and Cara settled down between Dendona and a Chagrian in a hoverchair two rows back from Koucitesh and her entourage. The Chagrian was seated beside an indigenous Meso’a, with large ear bars and an infant strapped to his chest, whom he was chatting with when the women and twins showed up.   
“Su cuy’gar vode,” smiled the Chagrian and his partner.   
“Su cuy’gar,” Jecho replied, raising her chin to them. Dendona and Cara echoed her and sat down, Cara with a basket of sweet baked bread in her lap. She offered one to the Chagrian and he took it, toasted it to her, and broke it in half. His partner leaned forward, one hand on the baby’s back, and gave Cara his thanks. Ba’atuk had just leapt into the arena when they’d arrived, which Cara was thankful for. She wouldn’t have to worry about the Choxultz’alor until the evening when they’d leave with her for the jungle tribe.   
“Are you ready?” asked Jecho between bites, “It can be a lot for an outsider to watch for the first time.”   
“She looks ready,” the Chagrian winked at Cara.   
Her eyes lit up and she was about to speak with him when Ba’atuk called out to the crowd. Throughout the call-and-response, Cara stayed silent. She didn’t know most of what was being said. Apparently this amused the Chagrian, so he began to whisper to her what to say right before they were prompted to. It didn’t help that Jecho was doing the same thing, but Cara began to enjoy the echo on either side. In a way, it made her feel included. She still had no idea what the phrases meant, and her pronunciation still left much to be desired, but neither Jecho nor the Chagrian said anything about it. Once Ba’atuk was directing the initiates and the accompanying warriors, the Chagrian turned to Cara:   
“You speak Basic?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye.   
“I’ve only been here for a month,” she admitted, “But I know some words!”   
She began reciting what Jecho had taught her, from the Resol’nare to the proper names of the tribes as well as what most Meso’a would consider “enough Soah-ra to find a bathroom and not die from spicy food”. He was smiling the whole time she spoke as if she were an interesting oddity. After a moment, he held up his hand for her to stop.   
“You know many words, but some of those words are very important,” he wagged a finger, “Say them not in jest, kex’ika.”   
She flushed, “I-I didn’t mean to offend!”  
He opened his mouth but stopped when his partner let out a soft chuckle.   
“Forgive him, he doesn’t meet many outsiders anymore,” he put a hand on the Chagrian’s knee.  
His partner frowned and elbowed his side, “Tir’rachi’tus!” (Don’t tell lies!)  
“Bat?” asked Cara politely, still feeling rather embarrassed. (What?)  
“Don’t listen to him, Chibala,” said the Chagrian, putting a hand over his partner’s face, “He likes to tell lies about me.”   
“Oh?” Cara giggled nervously, catching the grin on his partner’s face.   
“He’s old, kex’ika,” laughed the human, swatting the hand away, “He’s just bothering you because you unfortunately sat next to us.”   
“Shush, riduur,” the Chagrian put his hand back over his mouth, “Don’t listen to him, he’s the old one.”   
Jecho put an arm around Cara’s shoulder, “Do you know who they are?”   
“Should I?”   
The human shook his head, “Tir’rachi, Chibala. Ibi’tuur vode’nas.” (Don’t tell her, Chibala. Today we are all friends.)   
Jecho gave him a knowing smile and returned her attention to the arena. Cara frowned at her and sat back in her seat, eating her bread a little too quickly to calm her nerves (which also amused the Chagrian). She was well into her fifth roll when a tray of wax came down her row.   
“What’s this?” she asked, her nose wrinkling in disgust at the crater-ridden, red mound.   
“Take some,” advised Jecho, pulling off a small chunk and passing it to the Chagrian, “You’ll need this, trust me.”  
Cara hesitantly accepted it and shivered at the oddly smooth and semi sticky texture, “What do I do with it?”  
“Plug your ears,” said the Chagrian, pointing between the mass and her ears, “You’ve never heard Jiiya, yes?”  
Cara shook her head, “Does it really make you nauseous?”  
He nodded, “Best do it soon. Jiiya is near.”   
She took a deep breath, doing her best not to gag when she split the wax in half and pushed it into her ears. Jecho inspected it, smoothing down areas where the wax left a gap, and gave Cara’s knee a pat when she was satisfied that her ears were plugged. The sounds around Cara became muffled and unclear, but it didn’t matter as the whole arena seemed to be growing silent. Down below, Cara noticed the Twi’leks and Nautolans become increasingly uncomfortable, even wincing every now and then. The humans looked pale, the Togruta’s face was a sick shade of green, but the Trandoshan showed no signs that anything was bothering him. Most of the older warriors were unphased as well, but Cara saw out of the corner of her eye Av’hok burying their face under Dendona’s arm. Cara couldn’t hear or feel anything, something that began to bother her even more when a woman across the arena from her vomited into the basket in her lap. What confusion had mounted within her turned into an overwhelming sense of dread followed by what she could only describe as feeling as though her bones were cold. She shivered and clutched her arms, thankful when both Jecho and the Chagrian put their arms around her. The Twi’lek tapped her knee and pointed towards the door as all eyes were trained on it. Cara knew it, could feel it, that the door was the source of the crowd’s discomfort. Even still, that didn’t prepare her for the large, brown muzzle that slowly protruded out from the darkness.   
If you’ve ever fallen in a dream and felt the fluttering stomach and looming dread of hitting the ground, then you’d understand the bombardment of emotions Cara felt when the transport sized Jiiya crawled out from the tunnel and out into the light. Every image she’d seen of the Jiiya looked like a child’s shadow puppet in comparison to the real thing. This Jiiya, a male by the looks of its ragged fur-mohawk, had large yellow eyes, gleaming white tusks, a broad, square muzzle with dark brown spots, and large neck valves that seemed to vibrate her soul. Ba’atuk, a few warriors standing guard around the stadium, and the four older warriors on the field were the only ones still standing when the beast emerged and sniffed the air, it’s head nearly as high as the third row of seats. The Choxultz’alor walked up to it and called out something that caught its attention. It looked down at her, snorted, then lifted its head, shook from head to toe, and yawned. Each tooth seemed to catch the light, as if it needed to remind everyone that it could gobble up a full grown adult if provoked. Ba’atuk called up to it again. It looked down at her, snorted again, then slowly lowered itself onto it’s stomach. Its tail swished back and forth, kicking up small clouds of sand, as Ba’atuk threw a rope around its neck and tied it in a firm knot. The Jiiya shook its head and tried to look down at what she was doing, earning it a tap on the nose from an annoyed Ba’atuk. Cara clapped her hands over her face, sure it would attack her, but feeling the Chagrian chuckle made her at least peak through her fingers. The Jiiya was smearing Ba’atuk’s face paint with its enormous, pink tongue. If Cara hadn’t been terrified, she might have laughed. She slowly lowered her hands and tried to play it off, which earned her another chuckle from the Chagrian. Ba’atuk pushed the tongue away and tapped it on the nose again; the Jiiya snorted and licked its chops, annoyed but clearly used to it. From beside her, Ba’atuk lifted what looked like a net holding a large object and tied it to the rope around Jiiya’s neck.   
“Helmet,” Jecho mimed to Cara.   
Cara gulped. Winning the Kexultz meant taking your helmet from the neck of a Jiiya, that much she remembered. It was the one thing during the festival she didn’t want to see. Well, that and someone losing their arm in the Choxultz (thanks, Niri). She took a deep breath, painfully aware of how fast her heart was beating. The Jiiya became preoccupied with the helmet around its neck, evident of it shaking its head and neck to make the net swing back and forth against its chest. Ba’atuk chided it, but it ignored her, licking its lips again and flaring its nostrils before letting out a sneeze. A ripple of shuddering swept the arena. Cara felt as though she’d been hit in the chest by a cannon. Apparently when a Jiiya sneezes, its throat muscles vibrate and send out percussive waves of sound from its neck valves. Ba’atuk had her hands on her hips now. The Jiiya leaned forward and made a hoarse sound that even Cara could hear through the wax. Whatever it meant satisfied Ba’atuk because she put her forehead to its nose and blew at its open mouth. The beast snorted and stuck out its tongue, running it against its front teeth with displeasure which made most in the stadium laugh albeit nervously. It shook its head again and huffed, ruffling Ba’atuk’s shoulder furs; she gave it another headbutt then turned on her heels and walked back over to the initiates.   
For the first time since they’d arrived, Cara found herself scrutinizing the initiates’ “armor” and weaponry. They all had on the black padded jumpsuits, jade breastplates, orange-and-teal loincloths, clawed shoes, orange shin and wrist guards, and a red scarf tied clasped behind their necks by a large gold bead. How, then, were they supposed to get their helmets from the neck of a beast with teeth the length of the average adult’s forearm? All of their weapons were blunt, save the small knife, and Cara didn’t see the point in harming the Jiiya if they were a protected species so-  
“Do no worry, kexika,” said the Chagrian close to her ear so she could hear, “They are trained well.”   
Jecho gave her a squeeze, “You can look away if you have to.”   
Cara glanced around her at Dendona and the twins. Hoori was glued to the scene below but Av’hok was still clutching their mother. Dendona’s face was as stoic as ever. She glanced over at Cara and held her gaze for a moment. Cara couldn’t tell what that meant, going as far as to feel that Dendona was studying her for something. She opened her mouth to say something, much like Aviila would, but evidently thought better of it and turned back to the arena. Cara frowned and sat back against her seat. If the twins could handle it, well, if Hoori could handle it then surely I can, she told herself after another deep breath.   
“I’m fine,” she said to Jecho, “I’m ready.”   
She still gripped both Jecho’s and the Chagrian’s hand, that much she figured was allowed for an “outsider”. 

Ba’atuk left the Jiiya -now licking its claws- and returned to the initiates. She surveyed them, her good eye burning brighter than the midday sun. As her gaze fell upon them, each initiate straightened up even further and returned her firey gaze with their own as proof of their readiness to face Jiiya. She lingered on the human female who’d supported the Togruta out of the jungle and pointed at her with her spear extended.   
“Yun!” she shouted, startling the young woman.   
She slowly stood up, tucked her spear under her arm, and tied back her curly locks into a tight bun.   
“Le, Choxultz’alor!” she said as she jogged forward, handing her chosen spear to the Choxultz’alor.   
The Jiiya growled, fur standing up on its haunches. Ba’atuk glanced over her shoulder at it and hissed something. It looked at her, licked its teeth, slowly stood, and shook the sand from its underbelly. Cara couldn’t hear what Ba’atuk said to the initiate nor was she watching them. Her eyes, like many others’, were on the Jiiya slowly backing away towards the door and crouching low, it’s tusks barely above the sand. Her heart was racing now more than ever, she knew the look of an animal about to pounce. She nodded, expecting her hair to fall across her face and hide it like it always did only to remember she was wearing braids. All she could do was grip Jecho’s hand tighter and bury her face in the older woman’s shoulder.   
The older warriors in the arena moved slowly to the four corners of the central area to intercept the Jiiya should it roam too close to the stands or the arena exits. The crowd fell absolutely silent, many children clamping hands over their mouths in case they made a peep. A low hum momentarily broke the silence as energy shields powered on, locking the Jiiya and initiate into the central area. Should the Jiiya choose, it could easily leap over the shields. Evidently the Meso’a were aware of that possibility as two warriors with electro staffs were stationed at the ends of each isle. Holding her breath seemed the only thing Cara could do besides stare unblinkingly at the gargantuan animal crouching low with its backside up against the shields. It’s going to pounce, she said over and over again in her mind as if that would prepare her for it to happen.   
Ba’atuk circled around behind the initiate and put both hands on the teen’s shoulders.   
“Ke’brali ra ke’ash’amu,” she said. (Prevail or die.)  
“Ta ven’coat,” the girl replied, shrugging the Choxultz’alor’s hands off and swinging her club behind her, strapping it onto her back harness. (I will prevail.)   
Ba’atuk snorted, but smiled and gave her shoulder a quit pat before moving back to the Jiiya’s side. The animal was watching the initiate intently as if nothing else existed around it. Ba’atuk came to its side and leaned back leisurely against its massive forearm. She yawned and surveyed the crowd, whom were all still completely silent, then patted the Jiiya’s paw and stood up.   
“Jiiya we’ne, ade na’kime,” she said to it, leaning in close to one of its massive ears trained forward. (The Jiiya who sleeps by his children dies)  
At the sound of her voice its ear twitched and its large eyes slowly trained on her.   
“Jiiya,” she lifted her spear and pointed at the initiate, clutching her shield at her side, “ Ra’Tat nas’kime. Na’botik!” (Your fathers are dead. Make her pay!)


End file.
